


Favors owed

by TheRedPoet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:41:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1552460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedPoet/pseuds/TheRedPoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of Harry Potter/Dresden Files crossover one-shots. Some connected, some not so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally dared to write a Dumbledore/Mab smut-story and, for obvious reasons, I didn't manage to do that. This chapter was the result.

The knock at the door of his study took Dumbledore by surprise. Harry had only just left to fetch his cloak. He’d expected him to be at least fifteen minutes, perhaps a little while longer, if he wished to speak to his friends before departing. Perhaps Professor McGonagall had decided to pop in for a glass of single malt scotch, as she sometimes did.

With a little more effort than usual, Dumbledore made his way out of the comfortable office chair and crossed the room in a couple of long strides to open the door. Even now, even having met her over a hundred times, there was a moment of shocked awe upon seeing her.

Mab, the Queen of Air and Darkness, Monarch of the Unseelie Fae – and as strange as it might seem to many, including himself, his old friend – was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It was meeting her that had finally made him come to terms with the denial regarding his preferences.

If she did not inspire lust in a man, then no other woman ever would.

She was tall, six feet with some change added by suggestive but sensibly high heels, and slender. She wore a shimmering white dress to match her snow-white hair, its cut dipping just deep enough. It had been almost a hundred years since they had first met and in that time, Mab had not changed in the slightest. Whereas he had turned from a young fool full of ideals into an old fool full of regrets.

“Good evening, Albus,” she said. “It has been a long time.”

“Too long,” he agreed and meant it. “Come in. Have some tea.”

She nodded. “Thank you, that would be appreciated.”

They settled at a small table over by one of the office’s windows, with just enough place for a kettle of tea, cups, a small tray of biscuits and a chessboard. Mab poured milk and sugar into her tea, swirled it twice with her spoon and moved one of her knights before popping the question.

“When?” She asked. Her gaze did not flicker down to his blackened hand, but he knew that she knew. There were very few things that she did not.

Dumbledore smiled at her over his own cup of tea and after taking a sip, moved one of his pawns.

“Months, by Severus' estimations,” Dumbledore responded easily. “If everything goes according to plan, it will be less. This may be our last meeting.”

To someone who did not know her, it probably would’ve looked like Mab was pondering her next move. She wasn’t. Dumbledore rather doubted she’d need to see the board to beat him. She was – upset? He wasn’t sure the word was perfectly applicable, but it would serve.

“The curse,” Mab said, her voice unusually quiet. “I could break it.”

Dumbledore nodded and smiled as one of his Pawns made the ultimate sacrifice.

“Indeed,” he responded, and moved his queen to box her Knight in a few turns down the line. “But I am not the one who has to defeat Voldemort. My days are over.”

He smiled gently at Mab as she evaded his entrapment and took out his Rook. She looked him in the eye for a long minute. “Your trap is set, then?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore said grimly. “It is.”

“I- “ she hesitated, something he could not recall her doing in all the time they’d known one another. “I shall miss these meetings.”

Dumbledore reached over the table and took one of her hands in his old wrinkled fingers. Her skin was just as cold, smooth and soft as he’d remembered.

“As will I.” He cleared his throat. “Now, tell me. How is that – Er- charming daughter of yours doing?”

Mab did not have time to tell him before there was a second knock on the door.

“It would seem our time is up,” she said and moved her Queen. “Check mate.”

“Alas,” Dumbledore agreed as his King fell. “A good game. It was a pleasure playing with you.”

He turned to the door.

“You may come in, Harry.”

By the time he’d returned his attention to Mab, she was halfway turned away from him. He thought he might’ve spotted a tear on her cheek. Perhaps. His eyesight was not what it once had been.

“Good bye, old friend,” the Queen of Air and Darkness said. There was a gust of cold wind which rattled the empty teacups in their saucers and she was gone.

Harry stood slack-jawed in the door opening, staring at the spot where Mab had disappeared.

“Who was that, sir?”

Dumbledore smiled. “A very old friend. Are you ready to go?”


	2. Chapter 2

Harry had never been to a funeral before, but it was every bit as difficult as he’d always imagined. The mood was disturbingly bipolar and people went from laughing as they told old stories to crying over others. The speeches had been given, the casket lowered into the ground and he’d manage to do what was necessary by ending things with Ginny.

He remained in his seat for a while, observing the people who walked up to the open grave, dropping flowers or simply taking a silent moment. He’d been tracking Kingsley Shacklebolt’s progress back from the grave when he spotted Her.

It was one of those moments that would’ve been played in slow-motion in the movies and to Harry, it almost felt like reality froze for a second. It was the same woman he’d seen in Dumbledore’s office. She walked down the aisle between the chairs with a confident stride in her business suit of charcoal gray. Despite the situation, Harry couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting down and sticking like glue to her perfectly rounded pert posterior for several seconds.

The woman stood by Dumbledore’s grave for a little while, still as a statue and it struck Harry that people weren’t staring. Not even the veela he’d seen at the Quidditch World Cup had been as hauntingly beautiful as – whoever she was – was. People seemed to be aware of her presence, but not more. It had to be a spell of some sort, he concluded. He had the theory of her magical abilities confirmed a moment later when the woman conjured a single rose, coated in frost and dropped it down the grave. Then, a moment later, she turned – towards Harry in point of fact – and steered her steps in his direction. Oh boy.

His instincts screamed at his to get out of the chair and run, but his legs refused to cooperate and a second later, she settled down in the chair Ginny had vacated a couple of minutes earlier.

“You were there when he died.” It wasn’t a question and yet the statement demanded an answer.

“Yes,” Harry said shortly. He’d had this talk several times since that night and was in no mood for an encore. He could feel the weight of the woman’s gaze on him and despite the fact that she was slender and only a couple of inches taller than he, it made him feel an awful lot like when the lions at the Zoo observed him.

Her green eyes were intent and – Harry noted with a start – slitted like a cat’s. She might not be human, but she had been Dumbledore’s friend and as far as Harry was concerned, that was what really mattered.  
So Harry told her about what had happened that night at the lightning-struck tower. They sat in silence a while after he’d finished speaking.

“You may call me Mab,” the woman said softly.

Harry blinked, then held out his hand. “Harry Potter.”

Mab’s fingers were cold and smooth and instead of shaking her hand, as he’d initially intended, he brought it up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to it.  
That put a crack in Mab’s cool mask and one corner of her mouth twitched in a brief smile.

“A bold young man,” she murmured. “Considering your teacher, I suppose a streak of impertinence is to be expected.”

Harry felt his cheeks heat up under her intent gaze and looked straight ahead as the silence stretched one. 

“I hear you are to undertake a quest,” Mab said, her voice low.

Harry glanced at her and tried to keep his face neutral, but it didn’t seem to fool Mab.

“Fret not, child,” she told him. “It is not my intention to stand in your path. Quite the contrary.”

Harry forced down the conflicting feelings of nervousness, fear, sorrow and lust and met Mab’s gaze squarely.

“Why would you help me?”

“Favors owed,” Mab murmured softly. “You are about to embark on a perilous journey, Harry Potter, and you will need all the help that is available.”

Harry shuddered. There was something about the way she pronounced his name that made him feel like she’d just grabbed hold of him.

“And what help would you give me?” He asked.

Mab leaned in close enough for Harry to feel her cold breath on his ear, and her voice turned into a husky honeyed caress.

“Everything you will need and more besides, that I promise you.”

Harry swallowed and awkwardly crossed his legs to hide the effect she was having on him.

“Yeah- okay,” he said squeakily. “Do you know where I live?”

“Yes.” Mab stood, and leaned down over him. She put velvet soft hands on his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“I shall see you soon. Farewell.”

Harry watcher her leave. There was no way to keep his eyes from descending this time either, but at least he didn’t drool. Half-way down the aisle, Mab came to a slow halt. She looked over her shoulder and her knowing smirk let Harry know he’d been caught. There was a gust of unseasonably cold wind, and she was gone. He hadn’t even left Hogwarts yet and already his Hocrux hunt had gotten off to an interesting start. If only he knew if this was a good or a bad thing.


End file.
